Fool Me Once, Fool Me Twice
by catl-lover
Summary: Talbot saved Flynn from Shambala and makes a job offer the blonde can't refuse. In present time, Talbot managed to live from the destruction of the City of Brass, but not Marlowe. He seeks revenge on the infamous Nathan Drake, and Flynn plays along. Currently Rated T. Warning: Upcoming Flynn/Drake
1. Back From The Dead

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep..._

Flynn was terribly cold. It felt as if he was encased in snow. His body trembling uncontrollably, eyes squeezing shut as he tried to block the feeling out, but it didn't work. The Brit wanted to fall back into the darkness he was embraced with for God knows how long since… since Shambala. Shouldn't he be dead right now, rotting in Hell? The thought made his eyes snap open. For a minute, everything was out of focus. All he saw was a bright white that he assumed was the paint job of the room he was in. Was he in a hospital? That would explain the beeping to the left of his ear. Harry blinked over and over until his eyes finally focused and he could gather his bearings. To the left, as he predicted, was a heart monitor. To his right- the blonde jumped, which didn't help his continuous shaking. There was an attractive female hunched over her desk, writing out what seemed like paperwork of sorts. She must be the nurse. Good. She didn't notice he was awake.

The man shut his eyes and laid dead still as the nurse stood and walked out of the room. _Ha._ Playing dead. Maybe he was dead, and he was just in a shit excuse for Heaven. Or it was a really nice Hell. Either way. The second the nurse left, Flynn sat up- or rather, tried. He did all he could not to shout out in pain as he sank back down into the cushioned hospital bed. His skin burned terribly. Right, grenade explosion. He decided to look at the damage, lifting both his arms carefully. There were black and red splotches, but it wasn't like he was a man made out of charcoal, so that was a good sign. Harry placed his fingertips against the flesh of his face. His mug felt fine, which was even better news. Couldn't pick up all the ladies with a face like Jeff the Killer, could he?

His hands moved to his scalp. His hair was matted and rough felling, which was expected from not having it washed for so long. At least it was still there. The Brit could worry about a shower later. For now, he had to get the hell out of here. He could be in a cultists' hospital for all he knew. If that made any sense. At this point, nothing really made sense. Harry slowly and carefully tried sitting back up again, trying to keep the bodily trembling at bay. Figures; his skin is burning but his insides are as cold as ice. He managed to sit up, but he had no idea if he could walk, or even stand without collapsing. His bones felt like jello. The blonde dragged his legs off to the side of the bed, wincing as his bare, torched feet made contact with the icy ground. It was a start.

The first thing he was going to do was get out of this bloody gown. Sure, it was easier access for the doctors, but not easier for the dignity he had left. Just as he was about to stand, a pair of hands carefully grabbed him from the side, pulling him back down to sit on his bed. Turning his head to give whoever grabbed him a piece of his mind, Flynn came face to face with another man with clean cut, dark brown hair, blue eyes, a rugged facial structure, and a beauty spot. That was a nice touch. "What do you think you're doing?" the other asked him. He was a Brit as well. The blonde didn't reply. He just kept quiet. What interest would this bloke have in saving him?

When the brunette waited for a response but didn't get any, he stood straight, looking down at the injured man with a polite expression. It was as if he was reading his thoughts. "You're not in danger in any way, just to reassure you. I'm sure you're confused about this." _No shit_, Harry thought, but he didn't say it out loud. In fact, he hadn't spoken at all. At least his throat had a rest from his snide, sarcastic remarks for a change. "Do you want me to call you Harry or Flynn?" the other Brit suddenly asked. It wasn't a surprise he knew his name.

"Flynn's fine, mate," he said, startled out how hoarse his voice sounded. Yes, he hadn't spoken in who knows how long, but it didn't even sound like his own voice.

"Flynn," his new acquaintance tested on his tongue. "I guess I should introduce myself as well. Talbot," the man said, holding out his hand in greeting. Flynn looked up at him one more time before glancing down at his hand, taking it in his own carefully and shaking. Talbot. He could remember that name easily.

"Well, um," he cleared his throat. "Talbot. How long have I been out?"

"About three days, mainly from the medicine we've been giving to you." Thank God he was given pain killers. Maybe that's why he was dizzy, besides not walking for three days. "Also, you don't have to worry about payment. We're taking care of you on our expense." Whoever 'we' is. "What happened was, well..." Talbot started, but then located to a chair near the bed so he was comfortable and at eye level. "Marlowe, my boss and I. We lead this whole organization."

"The hospital?"

"No, no, not just this hospital. An entire organization chasing after myths and legends that have a good possibility to be true."

"Right, and... Why are you telling me all of this? I would guess this was supposed to be secretive," Harry asked, looking at the other oddly. Talbot lifted his hand and pointed at him.

"It's the same thing you're interested in, friend," the brunette said with a smile. _Oh._ That's why he wanted to save him. The Brit could see the reasoning behind it; he ended up in bloody _Shambala_, surely he had some idea of what he was doing.

"You've got me all wrong, Sweetheart. I'm not interested in that shit, at least not any more," he laughed pathetically.

"Maybe not, but you are interested in good pay, correct?" Talbot had him there. The blonde nodded. "I'm willing to give you a very nice deal, Flynn," he said with a smile, leaning towards him. "No hospital bills to pay. The organization will pay for everything, even a new home for you to live in, including bills and necessities such as food and water. At least until you're in good health and managed to make plenty enough money to pay for anything you need. For the job, you'll be my right hand man of sorts. My most trusted besides my boss, of course. I'll give you the details later, once you're in better shape." Holy shit. No one could turn this offer down. "Deal?"

"Bloody hell, yes," Harry said with a grin.


	2. Why Me

I apologize to everyone. I hadn't realized you would like it so much! ;-; Here's chapter 2! /wheeze

* * *

_...2 years later...  
_

* * *

"Sully, for the love of God," Nate said into the phone, "I know this is the fourth time Elena and I separated. Don't rub it in my face."

_"I'm tellin' ya, kid," _the older man laughed on the other end, _"when it comes to you and women, you're shit_ _luck."_

"Okay, yeah, thanks," the brunet replied sarcastically. "We'll talk about this later, Sully. Bye."

_"Bye, Nate."_

With a sigh, he closed his cellphone, laying down on the living room couch and setting the device on his stomach. Sully was right. Getting with various girlfriends and breaking up with them in a matter of weeks, then Elena, Chloe, Elena, and Elena. At least Chloe was following Charlie around ever since he broke his leg, but Elena... She's off doing her own thing. _Too much like me_, Nathan mused to himself with a smile. Now, the phrase 'opposites attract' made sense.

At this point, he knew the blonde was just utterly sick of him, and he didn't blame her. _Getting together, breaking up, getting together again, breaking up again. I'm sick of it, Nate!_ she had said to him in the last argument. It was never Elena's fault, really. He was always the dumbass risking his life 'willy-nilly,' Sully had put it, and frankly, Drake expected relationship issues with all the shit he's done and put everyone else through. Adventuring and hunting made him happy though, dammit. He would keep doing it. Even after El Dorado, Shambala, and the City of Brass.

Nate broke out of his thoughts when there was a vibration on his stomach; right, the phone. He picked it up and looked at the collar ID. Unknown caller. Hesitantly, he flipped open the cellphone and held it to his ear. "Hello?"

_"Hey, mate. Long time no see."_

The treasure hunter did a double take. That wasn't... "Who is this," he demanded as he sat up on the couch.

_"Drake, I'm hurt. You don't remember your old friend?"_

"You can't be Flynn. He died two years ago."

_"If he did, he wouldn't be talking to you right now, would he?"_

Nathan stayed silent as confusion whirled through his head. Wasn't he dead? He had to be. A grenade exploded in front of him. He watched. They all did. It must be a dream. Yes, he must've fell asleep on the couch, and-

_"Cat got your tongue?"_

"H- how are you alive," he croaked. As the Brit spoke, he stood from the couch and paced around the house.

_"Honestly, I still ask that question myself,"_ the other laughed. _"Someone saved me, but I don't know who. They left before I became conscious." _They both went quiet, slight background noise breaking the silence. _"I know you're probably a bit shocked, but can I stay at your place for a bit, Sweetheart? I want to visit."_

"Um," the brunet replied lamely. It was a bit too much. Harry had double-crossed him and almost killed him, then almost killed Elena. A little, hopeful voice made itself known. _What if he's changed a lot over the two years he was gone? What if he wanted to apologize? What if he wanted to make things right again?_ What if, what if, what if. _What if he was still the same and will put a bullet through my head when he has the chance_, Nate fought back bitterly. Still, though. Flynn had many chances to kill him before, but he hadn't. Plus, Elena wasn't living with him anymore, so he didn't have to worry about that. Just him and his old 'friend.'

_"Well?"_

"Yeah, you can bunk with me for a bit," he replied. What in the hell was he thinking.

After he gave the address, the blond told him where he was located currently; it was going to be at least a twelve hour drive. Enough time for Nate to get things ready and tell everyone, or at least Sully, but not enough to change his mind about the whole situation. _Why me._


End file.
